


Five parts of Leonard McCoy's body that really turn Jim Kirk on

by winterover



Category: Star Trek XI
Genre: Drunkenness, M/M, Voyeurism, five things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-16
Updated: 2009-11-16
Packaged: 2017-10-24 15:45:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/265199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winterover/pseuds/winterover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Title is self-explanatory. :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five parts of Leonard McCoy's body that really turn Jim Kirk on

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted [here](http://community.livejournal.com/st_xi_kink/1886.html?thread=3556958#t3556958) at [](http://st-xi-kink.livejournal.com/profile)[**st_xi_kink**](http://st-xi-kink.livejournal.com/).

_**1.** His arms._

The first time Jim sees Leonard McCoy naked - or at least, partially, close to, enough to probably mentally fill in the blanks himself if he so chose, which he totally has no inclination to do, at all - is the day after they're assigned as roommates at Starfleet Academy. Jim drops his coat and the new duffel bag containing uniforms and toiletries on the nearest bed, looks around, notices somebody else's stuff is already here, and jumps when the door to the bathroom abruptly opens. "Oh," he says, waving with a grin at the damp-looking man who emerges, wearing nothing but boxer shorts and a tank top. "Hey. I guess we're roommates."

McCoy raises an eyebrow as he marches over, picks up Jim's bag in one hand and deposits it on the other bed, and Jim's mouth goes dry at the sight of his bicep flexing. McCoy's upper arms are smooth, his lower arms dusted with light brown hair, and they're muscled and tanned, as if he's been working outdoors. Shirtless. They're the kind of arms Jim's always wanted - strong and sleek, capable-looking hands, real man's arms. Not what he expected under the multiple layered sweaters of the half-drunk, half-crazed doctor he'd first met.

"Are you even listening to me?" McCoy says. Jim looks up. His new roomie seems annoyed.

"No," answers Jim. "Are those _skeletons_ on your boxers?"

McCoy flushes a little and turns away to rummage through the case on his desk. "They were a gag gift. Ran out of clean laundry."

"Huh," says Jim, studying the way McCoy's fingers taper, the whorls of his elbows, the bulge of his triceps. "Bones. Appropriate for a doctor."

  
 _ **2.** His ass._

The first time Jim sees Leonard McCoy _all the way_ naked - well, back view, at least, which is better than nothing - is when he stumbles into the bathroom and throws up.

Not Bones - Jim does. There's a party one floor down, thrown by the fourth-years for the first-years as a traditional thing, with lots of booze and lots of stressed, overworked new cadets. Jim's no lightweight in the alcohol department, but there'd been some blue stuff that had tasted like fruit juice until five minutes after the fact, when it hit you like a punch to the face, and Jim prefers being sick in his own bathroom, if he has to be sick at all.

It isn't until the toilet's flushed that Jim realizes he isn't alone. Bones is in the sonic shower, staring over his shoulder at him. "You all right, Jim? I told you not to drink anything unrecognizable."

Jim makes a gurgling noise, and notices the shower door is open - of course. It's sort of claustrophobic in there and small spaces bother Bones. Unless he's flying, in which case small spaces are best. Jim just doesn't ask. But if Bones hadn't expected him back he would naturally not have cared about nakedness. "Uh," Jim says, and he turns to spit into the sink. As he leans over he sneaks a sideways look under his arm. Bones doesn't even bother to cover up, just goes on with his shower with a resigned sigh, and Jim can't help noticing that his ass looks even better uncovered than it does in pants. Pert and smooth and _nice,_ perfectly proportioned, bookended by a trim waist on top and muscular thighs on the bottom -

Jim rinses his mouth quickly, mutters a hurried 'sorry, have fun, I'll have a drink for you' in Bones' direction, and stumbles out, because he's still drunk, which means he's horny, which means he's hard from the sight of his roommate's ( _amazing_ ) ass.

Stupid Bones and his stupid butt.

He groans, presses the heel of his hand briefly to his crotch, and leaves, hoping he'll be presentable by the time he gets back to the party.

  
 _ **3.** His lips._

Life with Bones as a roommate and best friend is starting to get unbearable for Jim, truly it is. Don't get him wrong - Bones is great. He keeps his half of the room neat...he always has candy or booze or something unhealthy lying around to munch on despite the fact that he's a doctor...he yells at Jim when Jim comes home with black eyes and abrasions from some enthusiastic groping gone wrong, but fixes him up nevertheless...he doesn't even snore. But the thing is - Jim thinks he might have a slight bit of a crush on Bones, and that is unacceptable, because best friends are not to be crushed on, especially with such a plethora of lovely ladies around for the seducing.

Jim knows what Bones' ass looks like. And he knows what Bones' arms look like. And he thinks he knows sort of what Bones' cock looks like from that time they'd both run out of clean underwear and had been forced to go commando. The fact that this turns Jim on is bad. He tries his best not to dwell and distracts himself with other people, keeping far away from the bathroom when Bones is in the shower and far away from Bones' underwear drawer, and it actually works, for a while.

Then they decide to go off-campus for lunch one day, to this kitschy old-fashioned diner that serves homemade onion rings and grilled cheese sandwiches, and Jim gets a soda but Bones gets a milkshake with his. It comes with a straw. And Jim watches in unabashed fascination as Bones slurps, realizing he's just found yet another obsession to clutter up his thoughts - Bones' lips, pursing, biting, being licked, talking, parting and pressing together. They're full and soft-looking and pink and shiny from the hot, greasy food, and Jim's always had a particularly vivid imagination, which serves him well today as he imagines those lips doing other things. To him.

He's really glad there's a long checked tablecloth, and orders another basket of fries so he can delay the time when he has to stand up. Bones nags him - the words don't really enter Jim's brain, so busy is he watching the mouth forming them - and then leaves without him. Jim eventually takes the rest of the fries to go, and is late for class.

  
 _ **4.** His nose._

Jim's sure he's never been turned on by anybody's nose before, but Bones really does have the cutest nose he's ever seen on a male humanoid. It's small and turned up, like a girl's, only it doesn't look girlish because it's on Bones' face. Trust him to defy all the laws of attractiveness - tip-tilted nose, pretty, full mouth, long fans of eyelashes, heart-shaped face, put them all together, and you end up with...a ruggedly handsome man? Jim doesn't understand it, really, but he does admire it, and admire Bones' cute nose, and he decides to tell him so, one night while Bones is half-dragging him home after a night of post-exam clubbing.

"You are _sho_ pretty." He stumbles into Bones' side. "Your nose is like so cute."

"Jim, you left the girl back in the bar. It's me."

"I _know._ " Jim touches the end of Bones' nose, and it wrinkles as Bones makes a face. "So cute. But you're sh- still hot. I don' get it. People aren't su- s'posed to be cute and hot."

Bones sighs and heaves him up when his legs start to wobble. "God, you're _really_ drunk."

"I am not," says Jim, offended. He hiccups. "I'm no'lowed to tell you your nose is hot. I mean, is - nose ish cute."

"I've never heard you use the word 'cute'."

"Lots of stuff's _cute_. Ugh, Bones, I gotta - gotta sit down, I think." Jim drops to the sidewalk, which spins crazily under him. "Whoa."

Bones crouches to look him in the face. "For god's sake, man. You don't know the meaning of the word 'moderation', do you."

"Bonesh?" slurs Jim, blinking hard to keep his eyes open. "I love you. Will you have sh- s- sex wi'me?"

Bones rolls his eyes. "Not in the state you're in," he mutters, hauling Jim up by his arms.

"Ish that a yes?"

  
 _ **5.** His back._

They don't have sex that night. Or the next day. In fact, it's another two weeks and a lot of internal wavering back and forth before Jim crawls into Bones' bed, hands wandering and eyes pleading, and Bones actually reciprocates, pulling Jim's clothes off with his strong hands and kissing him with his soft mouth, their noses brushing together.

In the morning, it's Saturday, and they have nowhere else to be. Bones lies on his stomach, his customary sleeping position, and Jim curls up on his side with his cheek pillowed between Bones' shoulderblades, discovering something new. Not exactly discovering it for the first time - he's noticed Bones' back before, of course, the clean, muscled expanse of it bisected by the perfect straight line of his spine. But he's never been able to touch before, poke at the smattering of tiny moles, palm the curve of his lower back and then on down to his ass, because it's _there_ and Jim sure as hell isn't going to ignore it just because he's in love with Bones' back.

"You've got a nice back, Bones," Jim says lazily.

Bones snorts. "That's not my back you're squeezing."

"Well, forgive me for sharing my appreciation around." He kisses the back of Bones' neck. That's another good place. His shoulder - equally good. Bones' physique is actually pretty damn decent all around. "You know," Jim says, glad Bones can't see his face for the moment, "I've been ogling you for the last two years."

"I know. I was waitin' to see if you'd ever do anything about it. Made a bet with myself, actually. I bet you would make a move sooner or later."

"Oh, yeah?"

"If I lost, I'd have to say something myself."

"Really," Jim says, pleased. So, kind of win-win. "And if you won? Which you did, by the way?"

"I'd have to do this," Bones says, sitting up and pushing Jim over onto his back. His eyes are gleaming mischievously - in the morning light, they look more green than brown. "Hold on to something."

Jim grins and grabs a hold of the headboard, and holds on tight as Bones settles things up with himself. "Good bet," he gasps, as those lips do their thing. "Best kinda bet. Should bet on things more often."

  
END  



End file.
